


Burning Bright

by tprillahfiction



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chanukah, Fluff, Hanukkah, Hanukkah Fic, Happy Chanukah, Happy Hanukkah, Jewish Holidays, Jewish!Chekov, Jewish!Kirk, Jewish!Spock, K/S Advent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13071897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tprillahfiction/pseuds/tprillahfiction
Summary: Spock crashes a shuttlecraft on a snowy planet.  He manages to survive for eight days when there is only enough fuel to power the heat and oxygen for one day.A fluffy Chanukah fic written for K/S Advent 2017.





	Burning Bright

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Chanukah fic. So there's some transliterated Hebrew and Yiddish in this.  
> In this story, Spock, Jim Kirk and Chekov are Jewish. (among other crew members).

BURNING BRIGHT  
   
Spock counted down: "Five, four, three, two, one", tried to relax his body as much as possible before Shuttlecraft Eliezer hit the ground.

It skidded on frozen tundra, finally coming to rest against a rock formation.

All was quiet.  

Spock heard the soft thumps of snow falling on the hull, before losing consciousness.

*

"Captain," Mr. Sulu called out. "Shuttlecraft Eliezer has dropped off the scan.”

Kirk got to his feet. "Uhura hail shuttlecraft."

"Aye Captain. Enterprise calling Shuttlecraft Eliezer, come in please. Enterprise calling Shuttlecraft Eliezer, come in please." Uhura made several more attempts. "I'm sorry, Sir, there's no response."

Kirk grimaced. "Dammit. Long range scans of the entire sector. That Shuttle has to be somewhere. And we're gonna find it."

*

Spock opened his eyes.  It had to have been only minutes after the crash. He was bleeding from a cut over the eye and upon exploration with his hands, his nose felt as if it was fractured. No matter, there was a first aid kit in the back of the craft.

However, he discovered immediately that he could not move. His hip was wedged in the now narrowed space between the seat and the wrecked console of the shuttlecraft.  He could not get out of it no matter how hard he tried to twist his torso. He grunted with the effort.  The first aid kit in back would have to wait.

The console was smashed but some controls and dials still appeared to be operational. The log was not, however.

Spock flipped a switch.  "Shuttlecraft Eliezer to Enterprise.  Shuttlecraft Eliezer to Enterprise, come in Enterprise." 

No response.

The scanner was still operative.  Severe Ion storm along with blizzard conditions.  Sub zero temperatures.  Ion storms were notorious for wreaking havoc on communications.  There were two possibilities:  The shuttle's communicator was damaged from impact or the Ion Storm was simply blocking the signal.  No matter what was causing subspace radio silence, the Enterprise had no idea where he was.  

He eyed the readout on the console.  Fuel tanks had been compromised. There was the one intact reserve.  However, the fuel in that reserve tank was only enough to last one full day.  The fuel powered not only the shuttlecraft itself, but interior heating and oxygen stores.  The atmosphere outside was lethal for humanoids according to the sensors.  

Try as he might yet again, he could not break free from his prison, his hips were wedged in.  After one standard day, if the Enterprise could not locate him, beam him up, the carbon dioxide levels would rise in here, eventually suffocating him or he would freeze to death.  

Things looked very bleak indeed.  

*

"Anything?" Kirk asked Mr. Chekov.  

"Nothing, Sir."

"Look sharp, Ensign."

"Aye, Sir."

*

Spock had turned down the interior heating to a level that he could barely tolerate to conserve energy.  He shivered.  There was a blanket in the back.  Again, he could not reach it therefore it was useless to him.  He made a mental note, to store supplies closer to the front console, in case of this kind of emergency.

The hours felt longer than they were.  Waiting for rescue that most likely would not happen in time. He did not wish to be pessimistic, but realistic. He had suffered trauma in the crash and was most likely bleeding out on the inside.

He had only been performing routine sector scans in Shuttlecraft Eliezer. The Eliezer was one of their older crafts, the newer Galileo having been taken offline for repairs. The scanning involved having to travel a considerable distance away from the Enterprise but it was completely routine.  He had performed this numerous times as per his duties as Science Officer, keeping in contact with the Enterprise via long range voice transmissions and he normally did this alone.  He did not know how he had lost control of the Shuttlecraft.

The task was only to have taken several hours, then he was meant to return to the Enterprise. The next day he was due to take leave, board another longer range shuttle to travel to Vulcan, arriving several days later in time for the first light to be lit on the menorah.  

This was the first year he had requested leave, after reconciling with his father.  His mother was looking forward to seeing him for Chanukah. There was a party organized.  

Well, actually, she would have been looking forward to seeing him.  

"Unfortunately, my dear mother," he said aloud, since no one could hear him lament, "your son has done it now.  Dr. McCoy was right, as much as I dislike to admit it.  I would wind up killing myself one day."  

He halted.  He had resorted to talking to himself.  He must be getting delirious.  He tried once again to get himself out of his trap. He could not budge.

He sighed.  

*

“Status report,” Kirk ordered.

“Nothing yet, Sir.” Chekov stared into Spock’s scanner. “I’m on it. I’m leaving no stones unturned.”

“Very good, Mr. Chekov. Continue scanning.”

*

Spock blinked, and then he saw it. A child’s toy, a spinning top appeared to be wedged in between the heavy glass of the window and the console. It had to be a hallucination. Not uncommon in desperate times like these.

He reached for it, pulled it out, twirled it in his fingers. Fascinating. Decorated with the letters: Nun, Gimmel, Hey, Shin. The letters stood for: Nes Gadol Hayah Sham. A great miracle happened there'.

This object was a dreidel.

Fascinating. How did a dreidel get inside this shuttlecraft?

*

Kirk paced around and round the bridge. Walking past the viewscreen. Eighteen hours since Shuttlecraft Eliezer had disappeared. Abducted? Crashed? No answers yet. No planet in the vicinity.

*

His legs had gone numb from the hips down. The dreidel hallucination still sat on the console where he’d laid it. He picked it up again. “I have a little dreidel….” Spock whispered. He set it down. Then spun it.

As the dreidel spun, a long ago memory surfaced, playing as a little boy, during Chanukah, many years ago. Mother had a hologram of him playing with the other boys. The game was rather cutthroat and fun. They played for hours before bedtime long after the menorah had burned extinguished itself. When the parents when to bed, the boys snuck down the stairs when they were meant to be sleeping, broke out the chocolate coins resuming play. He and the other boys had gotten quite inebriated on the chocolate. Playful, boisterous, loud. Mother had come down stairs, scolded them, shooed them all back to bed. Nothing was said about it the next day. Mother had never breathed a word to Sarek about the incident and he was grateful.

His mind was wandering, whiling away the hours. He felt not like running through logic computations and mathematic theorems at this time. He thought of more frivolity. When you have so much idle time to yourself, like he did now, and there is considerable blood loss to accompany it, you ponder things you would never do so otherwise. The humans aboard the Enterprise did not practice C’thia, the Vulcan control of emotions, as was most obvious. Therefore, he had, on occasion, overheard some of them debating whether or not he showed emotions in private. When he was alone, did he smile, laugh, cry, did he sing, dance, show anger, yell?

He decided to amuse himself by holding his own Q & A, ‘Ask a Vulcan anything’. He would answer their burning questions.

Did he ever show emotions in private when no one else could see? “Occasionally,” he said out loud, to himself. “If the situation truly warrants it.” He was not supposed to do so. C’thia was the control of emotions entirely, not just for show when around others, but if no one saw him emote, what harm in it was there? He knew they often wondered, the Human crew, did he have sex? Could he? Yes, he certainly could and yes he enjoyed it. If he had sexual intercourse, what was he like in bed, was he robotic in his responses? (Dr. McCoy and Jim Kirk had wondered that, when they thought he was out of earshot.) No, quite the contrary. Vulcans were known for their passions (obviously the Humans were oblivious to the legend.).

Why was he thinking of these things, nonsense really? He was definitely growing delirious.

He could not stop the shivering. Again there was the thump, thump, thump of the toxic snow outside of the shuttlecraft. Time for another answer to those burning questions the human’s had. What was his favorite musical group? The Beatles, from the 1960’s, obviously.

He picked up the dreidel hallucination again and sang in Standard English, for something to focus on: “I have a little dreidel, I made it out of clay, and when it’s baked and ready, with dreidel I will play. Dreidel, dreidel, dreidel.”

He sang the tune over and over and over again.

*

“Anything yet?” Kirk asked Mr. Chekov.

“No Sir, nothing yet.”

“Keep scanning.”

*

It was the last hour, down the the last few minutes (he did not know precisely how many). The reserve fuel tank was low. The heat would soon cut out. The oxygen would also.

He looked at the controls. They now appeared to be broken, the readout showing more fuel than it should. He knew that to not truly be the case. The tank was nearly depleted.

All in all, freezing to death would be the ideal way to go.

To keep his mind off of dying, he rubbed his hands together and thought up another Q & A question the Enterprise crew might ask him: What was his favorite memory of childhood?

“Yom Tovs of course. Like any child enjoyed holidays. I enjoyed them all. Rosh Hashana, going to synagogue for Yom Kippur, Sukkot, Purim. I remember my mother cooking Friday night dinners, vegetarian of course, inviting family over. I enjoyed Chanukah a great deal as a child, receiving gifts for eight days. Practical things selected by Father of course, and something silly, but enjoyable, obviously picked out by Mother. A stuffed toy representation of a Sehlat that he cuddled with. Then one Chanukah he received a real Sehlat kitten. Father had very sternly told him of the responsibilities involved, and he undertook them seriously, until…

Every year, Father would sit the children around him and tell them the story of the Maccabees on Earth, then another tale of how the tribe of Vulcan came about. Lighting their Menorah they’d had in the family for centuries. Singing traditional Chanukah songs:

_“Chanukah oy Chanukah_  
_A pontiff a shayner_  
_A lustiker a freylekher_  
_Nisht do nokh azoyner_  
_Ale nakht mit dreidlech shpiln mir_  
_Frishe heise latkes, esn on a shir..._

or

_Ma’oz tzur yeshu’ati_  
_lecha na’eh leshabe’ach_  
_tikon beit tefilati_  
_vesham todah nezabe’ach_  
_Le’et tachin matbe’ach_  
_mitzar hamenabe’ach_  
_Az egmor_  
_beshir mizmor_  
_chanukah hamizbe’ach…”_

He stopped singing…silence once again engulfing him. The sun was setting on this snowy planet, he believed it was called Simon I, if he was not mistaken.

Time for another Q & A. What was his greatest regret?

“I have several regrets,” he said. “If we are being honest. And I am. I regret Father and I not communicating with each other for years. I am glad that we have reconciled. I regret not having the ability to serve on board the Enterprise with her brave crew any longer, due to my impending death. I regret not being able to make log entries. That is rather irritating. I regret not being able to free myself. No matter. I wish to say that the Enterprise is the finest ship in the fleet and it was an honor to serve aboard her.

“However, my greatest regret is—” He halted. He hesitated voicing it out loud. However, he was to die soon, he might as well, make a full confession, even if no one was around to hear it. The shuttle craft log was disabled as he'd already indicated, so he would take this to his death. Jim would never know the truth.

But somehow, it needed to be said. Now.

“Jim,” he said, simply. “I regret never telling you that I….”

*

He opened his eyes and suddenly he was not in the shuttlecraft any longer. He found himself back in ancient times on Earth, walking down a stone path, with a group of other men. He was bearded, wearing sandals, robes. They were in route to the temple to clean it and purify it after taking it back from King Antiochus. The king had desecrated the holy temple. Disgraceful.

They got to work cleaning, scrubbing every inch of the temple.

On the 25th day of Kislev, they held a glorious redication ceremony. That was where the word ‘chanukah’ originated from, it meant dedication. They needed olive oil with the seal of the kohen gadol. They could only find one flask of oil, enough to burn for one day. Somehow it managed to burn for eight days, enough to prepare a fresh supply of undefiled pure olive oil for the menorah.

There was a man in the corner, who had come to celebrate the dedication. Spock walked over to him. He knew this man. “Jim?”

“Hi Spock! Well, we’re in anchient times, so I’m supposed to be called James and that’s not even my Hebrew name, which is Yosef.”

Spock grabbed Jim’s shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

“This is your hallucination, damn it’s a party in here, and here I am, I can't resist a party. Couldn't let you celebrate the rededication of the temple all alone. You may be in that shuttlecraft alone, but I’m with you. Always.”

“Jim,” Spock said. “I love you.”

He was back in the shuttlecraft. Listening to the soft thumps of the snow on the hull. He smiled.

*

Eight days later.

“Keptin! I have found Shuttlecraft Eliezer! That planet, eight five seven MARK…one three.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chekov. Go Sulu!”

They arrived at the planet.

“Planet Simon I. Toxic atmosphere. No going down there,” Chekov said, as he looked through the scanner. "Aye yai yai."

“Scotty. Prepare to beam him up, out of that wreckage.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Look at all the snow, look at the state of that craft.” Jim’s heart sank. Spock was surely dead.

“Life signs aboard the shuttlecraft,” Mr. Chekov said. "Confirmed!"

Jim closed his eyes in gratitude, then looked up at the ceiling of the bridge.

He ran into the turbolift.

*

Scotty worked the transporter controls. "Locked on, Captain. It will be rough going on account of the ion storm."

"Energize."

"Be ready with that compression suit, Nurse," McCoy told Hannah Schwartz. "As soon as that pressure's off him and he materializes, he'll arrest on us."

"Yes, Doctor."

"What does that mean, Bones?" Kirk asked.

"Nothing. We're ready, Jim."

Spock materialized. Kirk gasped at the sight of him. The Vulcan looked worse than he thought.

Bones and his nurse had already leapt into action. The nurse slid the compression suit on the Vulcan while McCoy scanned him with his type II medical scanner. "Hold on, heart's stopped," Bones said.

Bones made a fist, then slammed it on the left side of Spock's body. Once, twice, then again. "Come on, Spock," the doctor muttered. He did it again. Scanned again. "Alright, Nurse." She closed the velcro fasteners, inflated it. "That'll keep him stable till surgery, Jim. Don't worry."

"Trying not to." Kirk assisted the medical staff in hefting the Vulcan's body onto the hover stretcher. Bones hurried off with his patient. Kirk followed behind.

As soon as they reached sickbay, Bones, called behind him. "We'll let you know, Jim."

Jim knew the drill, but it didn't make it any easier to deal with. He went up to the bridge, waited for word on Spock's prognosis. Sulu, Uhura, Scotty and Chekov each offered their respective encouragements and smiles, but still Jim sat restlessly. Pensive. Waiting.

Tomorrow was the first night of Chanukah. Spock's mother was Jewish, and therefore so was Spock. Jim also happened to be Jewish, not religious at all, in fact Judaism and its holidays was something he never bothered with anymore since Starfleet Academy, but he and Spock’s backgrounds was something the two had in common.

Jim knew that there was a sizable population of Vulcan Jews on Spock's home planet-- based on conversations over chess with his first officer-- the two philosophies of Judaism and C’thia mingling together nicely.

Jim was also aware that Spock had already secured shore leave to travel to Vulcan to be with his family for Chanukah. Jim hoped for Spock's sake, that the first officer could still make it home, maybe not by the first night, but a few days later.

For that matter, Jim hoped Spock would survive surgery. He had been in a severe Shuttlecraft crash. Eliezer was completely destroyed, unsalvagable. Spock was stubborn and Bones was doing everything he could, but damn, Spock had looked pretty banged up when he’d beamed aboard. Spock had to have gone without food and water for eight days since the shuttle had crashed and they'd lost contact with him. How Spock had managed to avoid freezing to death in those eight days was beyond Jim's comprehension. The shuttle had had only had enough fuel in a reserve tank to keep it warm inside for one day, keep oxygen going for one, not the eight.

Jim didn't know what he would do if he lost his first officer. Actually, it was more than losing a first officer. He didn't know what he would do if he lost Spock. Spock was everything. The fact they'd found him alive on the snowy, sub zero Simon I, was nothing less than a miracle.

*

Ten hours later: "Sickbay to Bridge."

Jim came out of his stupor. "Kirk here."

"Alright, Jim. Look's like he gonna make it."

The bridge crew broke out in cheers.

“Hear that? Everybody’s rooting for him," Jim said.

"Yes, Captain. You coming down here?"

"Of course, Bones. I'll be right there."

*

Spock was still out when Jim hurried through the sickbay doors. Spock looked peaceful under the blankets. But— “My goodness, would you look at that black eye! Actually that's two black eyes!" Jim said.

"Ah, that's nothing," Bones said. "The black eyes are only because of his broken nose, but I fixed that.”

"Broken nose?"

"There's a whole laundry list of injuries, Jim."

"Like what?"

"Six busted ribs, fractured hip, some internal bleeding, fractured radius and ulna, fractured ankle, along with his nose. There's cuts throughout his body, most of them shallow, some deep enough to require stitches, contusions throughout. He's in a healing trance but I'm just about to bring him out of it."

"That's a staggering amount of injuries," Jim said.

Bones folded his arms. "Not really. These injuries are typical for blunt force trauma. But he's actually doing pretty good, considering. No head injuries. Which is surprising since he banged his head pretty damned hard, but there’s not even a concussion there.”

"Yeah. It's a miracle."

"Well, you call Scotty the miracle worker. I don't know what you call me," Bones said. "Besides late for dinner."

Jim patted Bones' shoulder. "You are also a miracle worker. You saved Spock's life."

"Nope. I didn't do that. All I did was patch him back together. Something else kept him alive for eight days.”

“That reserve tank shouldn’t have lasted eight days. It only had enough fuel for twenty four hours,” Jim said.

“Really?” Bones asked. “Then how?”

“I don’t know. It’s a mystery how the fuel lasted that long.”

Bones approached Spock's bed. “Hmmm. I feel bad about this."

"Bad? About what?" Jim asked.

"I have to slap him to bring him out of the healing trance. Unfortunately, hitting his face, that's really gonna hurt him this time."

Jim stared at the Vulcan's peaceful face, with the bruises, the black eyes, the busted nose, the bandage over his eye. "I see."

"I don't know what to do."

"Couldn't you hit him someplace else other than his face to bring him out of it?"

"He's banged up everywhere."

"Tickle him," Jim suggested.

“Nah, that won't work, it has to be a slap.”

“Are you sure?”

Bones seemed to think about it a moment. “Well. On second thought, maybe if I tickled him long enough to really piss him off, it would be annoying enough to bring him out. The bottom of his left foot is really the only place I could do it.”

“No,” Jim said. “I’ll do it.”

“You just want to tickle your first officer’s foot. You have such a damned crush on him. Donchya.” Bones bounced on his heels.

“Bones,” Jim warned, but couldn’t help but smile. “I can’t help but be in love with him. He’s everything to me.”

“If you tickle him, you might get punched. Then it’s your nose I’m repairing.”

“I’ll take my chances, Bones. I just want him to wake up. I want him to know he’s gonna be okay. Maybe he can still take his leave, go home to Vulcan for Chanukah. Tonight’s the first night. He can make it home for the third night, if he hurries.”

Bones grimaced. “I have to cancel his leave.”

“But he’s overdue.”

“He’s not well enough to be released from Sickbay, Jim.”

“But his family’s expecting him.”

“I know,” Bones said. “I’m sorry.”

Jim glanced over at Spock. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Well, Jim,” Bones said. “If you’re gonna do it, do it now. He needs to come out of that trance.”

“Here goes nothing.” Jim ran his two fingers down the bottom of Spock’s foot ever so lightly. Spock gasped and opened his eyes. The Vulcan blinked.

“Well, that was easy,” Bones said.

“Good morning, Sunshine!” Jim said.

Spock looked at him, then at McCoy then back at Jim. “Why are you both looking at me like that?”

“Welcome back, Spock!” Jim said with a big smile.

“I should be dead,” Spock said.

“Well, thanks a hell of a lot, Spock,” Bones grumbled.

“You’re not dead. You gonna be just fine, Spock,” Jim said.

“So I heard,” Spock replied.

“How?” Jim said.

“Uh….” Bones chuckled. “Spock can hear perfectly while in a healing trance. Neglected to tell you that. It’s similar to being in a coma, but with the healing capabilities.”

“He could hear us talking? Ah.” Jim blushed, gave the doctor a dirty look then smiled at Spock again. “Good thing I wasn’t discussing anything confidential with your doctor here.”

“My security rating is just as high as yours, Jim,” Spock replied.

“Right. Of course it is.”

Spock looked at Jim again, then at Bones, then back at Jim. “You both are staring at me rather oddly. This is not the first time I have woken up in Sickbay.”

“Would you like a mirror?” Bones said. “You look like something the cat drug in, or rather the Sehlat drug in.”

“Ah, so that is why my face stings.”

Bones came around with a mirror to show the first officer. Spock looked at his reflection. “Hmmm.”

“Now tell me I didn’t do a beautiful job on your nose. Huh?” Bones said.

“It appears crooked.”

“It is not!”

“It is indeed. You see, Doctor? Right here.”

“You’re lucky you even have a nose, dammit, after that wreck! I had to completely reconstruct it. I have no goddamned idea how you even survived impact much less eight days out there with one reserve fuel tank!”

“The bridge right there, see, Doctor? It is not how it was before,” Spock said.

“Goddamned vain Vulcan—“

“Gentlemen! Please!” Jim held up his hands. “Please!”

“Well at least we know for certain he’ll be just fine, he’s full of piss and vinegar, like always,” Bones shot back.

“Doctor, I—“

“Gentlemen!” Jim said again. "Enough."

"Sorry, Jim."

Jim sat down in the chair next to Spock’s bedside. I do, of course, have questions. Mr. Spock.”

“And that will have to come later,” Bones said. “My patient requires rest. Out! Shoo!”

“Bones!” Jim whined as he stood up. “I need to write my report.”

“Later!” Bones said.

*

Later, McCoy was in his office. He got up to check on Spock. Spock was sitting up in bed, staring at nothing in particular. Not sleeping.

“How are you doing, Spock?” McCoy asked.

Spock nodded. “Fine.”

“Warm enough?”

Spock shrugged. McCoy went over to the cupboard, got out another blanket, covered Spock with it. “Better?”

“Thank you.”

“It was cold on that planet, Simon I, wasn’t it.”

“That is quite an understatement, Doctor.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“I find, Dr. McCoy that I have several things on my mind.”

“You want a sleeping pill?”

“No, thank you.”

McCoy nodded, walked back into his office, then turned and came back into the recovery ward. “Hey, Spock?”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“I’m uh…sorry that I had to cancel your leave. I know you were due to join your family for Chanukah.”

“It is of no consequence.”

“Well. Alright, then. After you fully recover, I’ll do more reconstruction on your nose. Perhaps you might be happier with the appearance of it then. Maybe I did make it a little crooked. I was mostly concerned with function rather than astheticism.”

Spock shrugged again.

“Alright, Spock. Call me if you need me, I’ll be in my office.” McCoy went back to his desk. After a moment, he got up, walked back to the doorway, watching the first officer. He went back to his desk again, flipped on the monitor. “Sickbay to Captain Kirk.”

“Kirk here.”

“Christ Jim, Spock’s moping like a kicked puppy in here.”

“Well, you’re the one who banned his visitors on the first night of Chanukah! His missing his family!”

“I wanted him to sleep! He just lays there. Staring at nothing. Doesn’t read, or anything.”

“Why don’t you hypo him?”

“Nah, I don’t wanna do that. He's able to sleep, he just seems down, that’s all.”

“I’m coming to sickbay. Keeping him company.”

“Fine. McCoy out.” McCoy flipped off the monitor.

*

When Jim walked through the door, Spock immediately perked up. “How are you, Spock?” Jim asked.

“Better,” Spock said.

“Well, good. Mind if I join you?” Jim sat down in the chair next to the bed.

“As long as the good doctor does not mind,” Spock replied, noting the physician folding his arms, in the doorway.

Bones seemed to take that as his cue to skedaddle. “I’ll be in my office.”

As soon as Bones left, Jim asked. “We investigated the crashed shuttlecraft.”

“What were your findings?”

“It had some mechanical difficulties.”

Spock nodded. “I could have told you that.”

Jim held up a small object. “And we found this in the wreckage.”

“The dreidel.” Spock huffed out what appeared to be a laugh, if Jim hadn’t known him better. “I thought I had hallucinated it.” He took it from Jim, spun it on a tray table. They watched until it stopped.

“What was a dreidel doing in the shuttlecraft?”

“Unknown, Jim.”

“How did you manage to survive eight days in a crashed shuttle? That fuel tank only had enough fuel for one day. In fact it still has a small amount of fuel left over.”

“Left over? Fascinating.”

“If that fuel would have run out, you would have—“

“Frozen to death or suffocated. One or the other.”

“There should have been no way for that fuel in that reserve tank to have lasted that long.”

“I have no explanation,” Spock said.

“Well, in my report, I will have to say…’unexplained phenomena at work’. Can’t really write down ‘it was a miracle’, that’s not very scientific is it.”

“Indeed.”

“Speaking of miracles…as you well know, tonight is the first night of Chanukah. In fact if we had a menorah we could be lighting it…” Jim glanced at the chrono, “right now.”

“Yes,” Spock said.

“I’m sorry, Spock.”

“For what?”

“That you can’t be with your family to light the menorah, tonight.”

“It is quite alright, Jim.”

“I wish we had one. A menorah. Ridiculous. Here I am, Jewish. And I don't even....”

“Now that….” Spock nodded. “that would be nice.”

There was a cough in the doorway, they both looked up. “Yes, Doctor?” Jim called out.

“Ya know uh….Mr. Chekov was stuck here in the sickbay last year during Chanukah and uh…ya do know he’s Jewish too and uh….”

“What’s your point, Doctor?”

“Well, guess what I have?” Bones went to a cupboard, pulled out a beautiful sterling silver menorah.

“Where’d you get that, Bones?”

“This is Chekov’s.” Bones set it down, then dug in the cupboard again. “I think there’s some oil cups with wicks left over in the box here. Oh yes, here we go.” Bones set the menorah down on a shelf near the bed. Bones quickly put the cup into the holder, handed Jim the Shamash and a lighter. “Knock yourself out.”

Jim chuckled, then got up. “Where is Mr. Chekov, anyway?”

“He’s got himself a cute little girlfriend, my nurse, Hannah, so I’m assuming he’s lighting with her,” Bones said. "And then engaging in some Chanukah sex."

“How do you know?” Jim asked.

“I know everything that goes on aboard this ship.”

“Alright, then," Jim said. "Spock you’re singing the blessing with your beautiful voice.”

“How do you know I have a beautiful voice?” Spock asked.

“I’ve heard you singing in your quarters,” Jim said. “It isn’t soundproofed, you know.”

Spock blushed and sang:

_“Baruck atah adanoi_  
_elehenu melek haloham_  
_ahsher kideshanu vizemotav_  
_vivitzivanu lehadek ner_  
_shel hanukah.”_

Spock then sang the second blessing, then the third blessing (reserved for the first night). Then he sang Ma' oz T'zur.

Jim listened. Entranced.

*

Each evening, Jim returned to light the oil cups, Spock sang the blessings.

One night Bones had provided latkes with applesause.

“Who made these?” Jim said. “They’re delicious.”

“I did, Jim.” Bones grinned. “I looked up the recipe. Easy.”

Another night, Bones had made Sufaniot.

“Are you sure you’re not Jewish, Bones?”

“I can cook anything. Anything. Nothing is too challenging for me. No matter what it is. Enjoy the jelly donuts you two, I’ll be in my office.”

*

It was the last night of Chanukah. Jim lit the wicks of the oil cups, Spock sang the blessings.

“It’s so beautiful,” Jim said.

“Doctor, if I may speak to the captain alone,” Spock said after several moments.

“Oh…alright. I’ll uh…just be…you know where I’ll be.” Bones smiled then walked off.

*

“Spock,” Jim was saying, rambling, really. “I’m glad I was here to light the menorah with you, but I’m still really sorry you couldn’t be home with your family.”

Spock reached over, grabbed onto Jim’s hand. “Nonsense, Jim. You are my family.”

“Really?”

“I cannot think of anyone I’d rather have lit the menorah with, this year, Jim. It meant everything to me to share this with you.”

“Same here.”

“And Jim. There is something I have been meaning to tell you. I have felt this way for quite some time. I need you to know.”

Jim squeezed Spock’s hand. “I’m listening.”

*

McCoy rubbed his face, stood up, stretched, yawned. Bout time for him to kick Jim out of sickbay, let Spock get some rest. Not to mention he himself was exhausted.

He went to the doorway. Halted. Smiled.

Jim and Spock were kissing. Aw.

Well, it was about damned time those two got together. But damn, get a room for crying out loud.

They didn't even notice him staring they were so involved in smooching.

McCoy shrugged, walked back into his office. He lay down on his cot, fell fast asleep.

__________  
end


End file.
